


Lost in Venice

by candycity



Category: Liar Game
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 08:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycity/pseuds/candycity
Summary: Nao gets a job abroad. Akiyama, in the spirit of rom-coms and chick flicks, decides to follow her.Too bad he gets hopelessly lost.
Relationships: Akiyama Shinichi/Kanzaki Nao
Kudos: 1





	1. The Plan

He could kick himself.

Akiyama stares despondently at the screen, watching the heroine (who, in his immensely altered state of mind, looks a bit like Nao) walk through the airport.

Just like how his Nao did a few weeks ago, on her way to her new job in Venice. And he let her go, without so much as a goodbye, because his stupid self didn't have the guts to see her off at the airport.

Oh, he really, _really_ could kick himself.

Akiyama watches as the camera rapidly swings to the hero's mad dash across the airport. He's handsome in a sweaty, out-of-breath kind of way as he slams down a stack of bills in exchange for a ticket and shoves his way through the departure gates, desperately searching for his heroine.

_That could've been you,_ his mind taunts. Akiyama curses silently.

An unfortunate side-effect of having a brilliant mind is that said mind never, _ever_ shuts up. And at this moment, it's refusing to shut up about how absolutely unbrilliant he's been.

_So, what, I should've raced through the airport and followed her to Venice? We're not even dating,_ he retorts.

_Maybe you would be if you had any game at all,_ his mind says.

_I have to study, you know. I'm in the middle of a PhD programme._

_Yeah, because you're studying so-o-o hard right now,_ his mind scoffs. _How many episodes have you watched today again? Twelve? Thirteen?_

As if on cue, a notification pops up on his Netflix screen. "Are you still watching?" the screen reads.

To Akiyama, the innocuous words drip with derision.

"I _get it,_ " he hisses and slams the laptop screen shut.

* * *

Akiyama is barely two beers in when Fukunaga appears at his doorstep, dressed to the nines, without a word of warning.

Another night, he would've shrugged it off – it's not an uncommon occurence, and he usually even quite enjoys the trash talk. But he's so not in the mood tonight.

"Still sulking?" Fukunaga smirks. "Oh, don't give me that look, I come bearing gifts."

"Go away," Akiyama grumbles, but accepts the bottle of sake anyway. He examines it – it's an unusually classy brand, and more importantly, much stronger than the cheap beer Fukunaga usually brings over.

"A client gave it to me," Fukunaga says, answering his silent question. She brushes off her skirt delicately. "Apparently, there are benefits to this job."

Akiyama snorts. "Apart from the six-digit pay, Ms Fancy Pharmaceutical Executive?" He pours himself a generous glass without waiting for permission.

"What can I say, I'm expensive," she says smugly, and tosses her hair. "So, you still moping over the Nao Incident?"

"One," he says, "I am not moping. And two, there was no incident."

And he's not lying. There can't be an incident if he didn't do anything.

"Oh, so we're still in the denial stage of things," Fukunaga says disbelievingly. "Man, it's been two weeks."

_Sixteen days_ , he corrects mentally. "Whatever."

"And still no word from her?" Akiyama slurps at his drink. "Guess not."

"There's nothing for her to say," he retorts. Fukunaga sniggers.

"Well, no, not after her precious Akiyama-san dismissed her announcement, ignored her for an entire month, and didn't even see her off or text her goodbye." Fukunaga takes an elegant sip of her sake. "Was it really so hard to send a text, like, 'bye, have a safe flight, come back to visit sometime'?"

"Yes," Akiyama snaps. There's a moment of silence, and he feels a tinge of guilt.

"Wanna order some food? My treat," he offers.

"You'd better," Fukunaga says.

* * *

Two hours later, they're both more than a little drunk, and are now well into Akiyama's stash of convenience-store beers.

"So the thing is, right," Akiyama slurs, "I didn't know any better. I mean, what could I have done? Chase her down? I can't live in Venice."

Fukunaga snorts. "I don't get why people always think you're such a genius. _Think_ , you idiot." She jabs him in the forehead. "It's a posting, which means it's probably not permanent. She's going to be back. But you gotta think long term. Like, if you ignore her and treat her like dirt, d'you think she'll just come back to you all rainbows and smiles once she's back in Japan? She's gonna be like, what the hell, this dude totally doesn't give a shit about me, I'm moving on. And like, she's a cute girl. It won't be hard to find someone new." She hiccups.

"I guess I could take a vacation," Akiyama mumbles. "Like...I could work on my thesis. Maybe get some inspiration."

"Do some sightseeing," Fukunaga suggests. "Try the local food."

"Yeah!" He's warming up to the idea. "And, um, maybe since I'm going abroad...Venice is as good a place as any."

"Totally," agrees Fukunaga. "And hey, since you're in the area and all..."

"...I could drop by and see Nao...and maybe apologise."

"Now we're talking sense," Fukunaga says, and they clink bottles.


	2. The Trip

Akiyama's never been a fan of aeroplanes.

They're stuffy and cramped and noisy. A toddler has been shrieking nonstop since the start of his flight, and shows no signs of stopping. Also, his seat is an ergonomically-designed _literal_ pain in the neck.

Worst of all, it's only been an hour, with eleven and a half more to go.

He sighs. The morning after Fukunaga's ill-fated visit, he'd awoken to a massive hangover and a notification on his phone, cheerfully informing him that his Japan Airlines booking had been confirmed.

His strictly non-refundable, twelve-and-a-half-hour, Japan-to-Venice direct flight. In budget. Scheduled for the next day.

He'd spent the next two hours trying frantically to cancel the flight, the next two hours after that frantically sending emails to his professors, and the next two hours after _that_ frantically searching for his much-neglected suitcase.

_I'm never drinking again._

Akiyama sighs, louder this time, earning him a dirty look from the old lady across him. _Whatever._

_Okay. Twelve hours to go, I might as well start planning what I'm going to say._

* * *

There's another unfortunate side effect of having a brilliant mind, and it's that whenever you need it – to, say, develop a flawless apology to the girl you may or may not be in love with – it fails you.

That's when you ask the nice flight attendant for a glass of wine and spend the rest of the journey slumped over in your seat like a zombie, watching an assortment of direct-to-TV romantic comedies until you're nearly catatonic.

Twelve hours later, Akiyama drags his suitcase down an excessively cobbled path on his way to the airport hotel. Somewhere in the absurdly-jet-lagged, rom-com-infected, moderately-inebriated haze of his mind, there are plans to buy a dozen roses, write a devastatingly romantic note for her to meet him at sunset at the Ponte dei Sospiri, and gracefully confess his feelings - preferably in a gondola with a violinist standing at the back.

In reality, he sends her a garbled, only vaguely intelligible text message, and manages to type 'best florist venice' into Google before collapsing in a heap onto his bed.

He wakes up to an incessant ringing from his phone and the glare of sunrise stinging his eyes. A bleary glance at the screen says he's slept through six calls already, all from –

"Nao?" he asks. "What are you –"

"Akiyama-san." Her tone is uncharacteristically tight, and deeply, deeply frightening.

"Just answer this one question. Where are you right now?"

"Well, um - I'm in Venice," he admits. _What on earth did I text her last night?_

"Not the city, the country," she snaps. Or as close as Kanzaki Nao can come to to a snap.

"Italy, of course," he says. "Nao, are you –"

"Akiyama-san. If you'd bothered to listen to my announcement that night...never mind. I'm not in Italy. My new job is in Venice, _California_."

A beat. "Well," says Akiyama, "shit."

* * *

As it turns out, the flight from Italy to California is yet another twelve and a half hours.

The earliest flight is the next day, which means he has a full day in Venice – most of which he spends fuming.

"I don't know why I even tried," he grumbles over the phone to Fukunaga. "Rom-coms are stupid. Romance is stupid."

"You mean _you're_ stupid," Fukunaga retorts. "Seriously, all those ridiculously complex master plans and you can't even get this one tiny detail right. And you didn't even have her address – how were you planning on finding her anyway?"

_I'd rather jump into a canal than tell her I was going to meet Nao at sunset on a bridge._

"It always works out somehow in the movies," he says instead."And Nao hung up on me. What do I even do now?" There's a deep sigh from the other end of the line.

"I'll text you her address," says Fukunaga. "As for what to do now – you're on vacation. You're in Venice. Go sightsee or something."

The line goes dead, and Akiyama scowls.

_When I get home, I'm so killing my Netflix subscription._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love abnormal-mental-state Akiyama. He's so out of character – but that's the fun of it, right? Right?
> 
> Anyways, one more chapter to go! Hit me with a kudos or comment if you enjoyed it at all. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that episode of Victorious where Cat mixes up Venice, Italy with Venice, California. 
> 
> Anywayyyy. I recently reread Liar Game and decided to challenge myself by writing a new fic. I haven't written one in years and ngl I do miss it, but I just haven't had the inspiration – maybe because I'm just never in active fandoms, hahahahhahasigh. (Also I'm really rusty, please forgive any stiltedness – and of course all feedback welcome.)
> 
> In any case, if anyone's still out there, this one's for you.


End file.
